Assassin's Calling
by ivory tear
Summary: He ranked in 5th as one of the best in their assassin's guild for being skilled in his way of killing.But one person soon made him trade all that for a better life, and he was bound by his destiny to kill her or be haunted for the rest of his life. SouXMi
1. Chapter 1

**Assassin's Calling**

Summary:

He ranked in 5th as one of the best in their assassin's guild, "crimson goblet". Known for his silent, almost maniacal killing spree, 18 year old Soujiro Seta was soon dubbed as the "the smiling death"… Those who lived to tell the nightmare can only describe him as a young man who smiles in frozen joy as he slaughters his victims and targets. Their boss has taken a liking on him for having consecutively zero detection, doing thoroughly clean job on his missions and for upholding their rule by staying out of society's way. But one person soon made him trade all of that for a better life… and he was bound by his destiny to kill her or be haunted for the rest of his life.

**Disclaimer: **Rurouni Kenshin is not mine, though I dearly wished it was so. This goes the same for the rest of the chapters.

**Author notes: **For all you Soujiro Seta fans out there, including me. xD hope you like it.

**Chapter 1**

**Close Encounter**

Soujiro submerged both of his legs gushing out blood and smiled at the warm sunlight overhead. The running water would help in stunting the blood flow, but a little sliver of doubt remained and showed in his features as he tried to maintain his smile despite the intense pain radiating from his mangled wound.

He reminded himself again what happened. It wasn't a moment ago when he got these injuries…

--

Their boss was confident enough to assign him on a crimson mission… but it didn't turn out as well as he hoped. He managed to at least behead his target who had sliced a clean portion of his leg before he barely escaped. Hastily securing his bleeding leg with a piece of his torn garb, he made his way out of the encampment and avoided the guards as much as his mobility would allow. Soujiro limped his way into the gloom of the forest, lurking in places where the shadows of the night would conceal him. He managed to struggle through the early hours of morning until he finally reached the end of the enemy borders with barely enough strength to last him for a day's journey back to their base.

With all of his will and life at stake, he pushed himself until he lumbered into a quiet, secluded area of the forest. Morning had passed without his knowing. The sound of rushing water and chirping birds filled the area as the sunlight filtered through the branches. There seems to be a waterfalls here… He followed a trail in the area and was barely able to spot the seemingly hidden falls below, surrounded by tall growing trees. Noticing the way it appeared concealed to anyone glancing beyond, he decided to follow the way leading there and eventually stumbled over the majestic area. Sounds of rushing water and current filled the whole place, the water coming from a high source up ahead. The place was surrounded by a high cliff with trees growing till above, making it unnoticeable to the outside.

It was not worth the risk to rest at such a place with his pursuers high on his tail, but the sudden pain that shot out from his wound convinced him anyways.

--

The waters of the falls washed the blood from his leg as he sat with it submerged, watching his blood diffusing in the water like soft trailing red silk as the current carried it away to the river. He was in agony in different parts of his body where his target had unwittingly sliced him, but it was his left leg he feels for the most.

--

The heavy man Soujiro was assigned to assassinate deliberately went for severing his leg. Armed with a long-handled scythe that possessed its own wicked sharpness, he carried it with ease as he repeatedly swung it Soujiro's way with an agility that exceeded his leaner frame, nearly putting his life on the line had he been less of the assassin he was. But years of experience in the face of death and torment taught him the facts and skills that made him struggle for survival, to which he used. Soujiro managed to dodge at the last deadly hurl of the blade, only skinning his leg cleanly so that the skin lay in folds, flapping against his thigh.

The pain that accompanied this was almost bearable… until now.

--

Earlier he thought the rushing current would do something to stop the blood flow, but now as his vision started to fail him and his body turning weak, he soon knew it was a mistake.

Still, he kept his smile.

It faltered a little from the intense pain radiating from the mangled wound, but he held onto his smile. It was better to die this way, he thought. He felt for his vest, noting the familiar bulge of the kunai there and smiled contentedly. There was still chance that his boss will discover his decaying body, acquire the jeweled kunai and he'll be considered to have fulfilled his mission. With that thought lingering within him, he let his eyes slip close…

"Hey you!! Yes you!" a female voice called out. It seemed to be for him… Soujiro managed to open his eyes in surprise, but it was too late.

She was coming.

"How can you clean a _whale_ in here!? Can't you understand the rules of this falls?" the annoyed female voice broke the line of his reverie as he turned to the direction of the voice behind him, trying to see who it was.

In his failing vision, he could see the outline of a female figure standing meters away from him, her hands on her hips in a universal gesture of frustration. But whatever was making her mad didn't matter in the least to him though. Soujiro stared fixedly at the young woman, unmoving, his dark innocent eyes registering concealed fear…

Her presence suddenly made him feel uptight. With this condition, he wouldn't be able to do anything about what happens next, and all his instincts told him to move away before it was too late.

But the young woman kept her stand. She did not go away.

"You shouldn't go cleaning your blood-bank of a fish in front of the falls and hog all the clean water for yourself!" she scolded, "We have to be greeted by a bloody river just when I'm going to do the laundry!" she yammered on, narrating the consequences of whatever he might have done.

She was starting to approach him, and desperately he scampered to get away, only to fall backwards to the water which was instantly tinted by the crimson coming from his blood.

The knowledge of why he must cringe in the presence of a helpless female did not occur to him; only the plain realization of being seen vulnerable and weak daunted him to move into hiding. He desperately tried the effort to stand again only to fall back, giving the water more specks of blood. Seeing no escape, he covered his wound as best as he could, sat down back in his position and tried not to appear disoriented as the young woman approached.

But his smile was faltering from the added pain brought by the effort of standing up, his leg wound insisting to gape open like a grotesque piece of meat. The blood flow came freely on the open wound, staining the waters with more crimson. He was starting to feel faint, making prim decisions difficult, but he held his hand guarded on his side in a helpless habit, prepared to make a quick grab for his katana if the time comes.

At the moment, the young woman sensed something was wrong with the picture.. She stopped to observe the falls.

Did the waters look a bit redder than before, or did all the fish died and generated the blood coloring? Either that or she was imagining things…

The man she was accusing was facing the waters when she saw him for the first time. He seemed like an innocent looking young man, perhaps lost in the forest and came to rest by the falls… except that innocent men like him didn't carry a deadly looking katana around and wouldn't bother harassing the waters with blood.

She recalled that when he saw her, he stood up as if trying to flee, only to stumble over the waters, and sat back down again. …Or did he? The young woman thought doubtfully. His actions were suspicious though, and it only caused her to investigate further.

"Hey what's---" the little shift he created gave view to the wounded leg. Even from afar, she knew that red gash wasn't a gigantic leech.

Soujiro didn't even have time to face her when she gave out a cry of horror.

"My god, you're _bleeding_!" she gasped, ran to his place collapsed beside him to take a look. Soujiro was feeling so faint it was almost impossible to do anything to stop her. But he tried and managed to release the blade from its sheath but he didn't have enough strength to do away with her in one slash. His vision was blurring tremendously, his senses starting to fail him as his frosted smile slipped in the face of this stranger kneeling before him. Soujiro found himself resigning to his own fate.

The young woman looked over the wound with a practiced eye, frowning deep. "Hey mister, how in the world did you even get this wound? Looks like someone did a fine job of making sure you lose a lot of blood." She was saying, but he could barely keep his eyes open even to listen.

He felt himself turning into the darkness… feeling himself lose reality and fall down, down to infinity…

Soujiro collapsed on the ground beside her.

"Oh no…" she completely paled before regaining herself, "Help! Senpai!!!" the young woman cried helplessly to her master down by the river. Then dropping on her knees, she tore away a large piece of her clothing, took off the soaked bandage on his leg and wrapped the clothing tight around it in an effort to staunch the blood flow. Already his complexion was starting to turn bluish, the tell-tale sign of encroaching death due to blood loss.

The young woman could only pray it would not be too late for him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

**Death meets Life and more**

The sun rays slanted through the open window by the bedside as Soujiro slowly fluttered his eyes open and woke up dreamily...

The scents of clean bed linens and freshly cut grass of the woods filled the air around him, but it was the waft of some scrumptious smell that filled his mind and consumed his thoughts.

For some reason, he suddenly felt ravenously hungry like he was deprived of food for many years he had forgotten how hunger felt like until this moment.

Slowly getting up from the bed, he made a quick survey around him but saw no one---for the moment at least. In the meantime, he had other concerns to attend to; what had happened to him, for example.

With dull realization, he saw himself dressed in a faded white yukata that looked as if he was the first to wear it after years of storage. It was one size larger than him, but it fitted snugly around, its color had turned from once pure white to cream from years of unused. The thought brought a ghost of a smile on his lips as he continued on his survey… The comfy bed he was lying on had newly changed its linens he noted, and once more he breathed in its invigorating scent without knowing why he loved it. By the bedside table, the flowers on the bamboo vase also looked newly gathered and fresh, its colorful vibrancy seemed alien and annoying to him as he casually brushed it away from his sight.

The room he's in appeared to be the bedroom of this house… to whoever it was. Soujiro concluded it must belong to the one who made him live again, maybe even that spunky girl he met by the falls. He was obviously saved by someone…

The thought gave him no comfort though; he knew what fate awaits them. His mind, grown used to years of ruthless slaughter and servitude, had become habitually inclined into following its own path, holding steadfast to its notion.

He knew of nothing else more worthy or understandable than the language of his own calling.

Then, as if recalling the object of his torment and the cause of why he was here under the care of someone, his hand went to his leg where his wound was; it was already bandaged and well-mended, which was not much of a surprise. His being alive and experiencing the comforts worthy of a guest was enough to testimony of his savior's character. But even that didn't do much to change his outlook.

He spotted his katana lying by the far wall and moving almost surreal towards it, he took it from its resting, placed it on his leather holster and wore it to his waist. There was almost an audible sigh that escape his lips as he held this weapon that shed much blood; to take the life of this house inhabitants seemed cruel enough and touched him in some way… he only thought it proper to feel regret. He always does. Some part of him wanted to make sure that this was their preordained, inevitable fate… nothing more.

Keeping a hand guarded on his katana's hilt like he habitually did when he was in a new place, he wandered around the house, his mind unconsciously taking in the smell of the cooking as his guide. Each nerve in him was armed and alert at the slightest, but he kept it in tight rein as he maintained his reserved appearance, making no sound as he glided past each twist and turn in the house.

Every new place he encountered was always dangerous for him who lived his life lurking in people's domiciles, intent on taking their life. This homey house was no exception, but the fine change in the morning air and place did succeed in making him a little mellow. It was not always the leader assigned him to kill someone in a place like this… this place which he reluctantly agreed to look too much like a home.

Seeing no soul lurking around that his sharp senses detected, he finally loosened his guard and stepped into the kitchen where he smelled chicken soup boiling over an earthenware pot.

He stood there for a while, taking in the likeness of the place, when a sound came from behind.

As if a switch had been turned on, his trained hand immediately went to the metallic hilt of his katana as he turned to look at the one who spoke.

"Ah, you are finally awake." The voice was coming from an old man.

Soujiro had his smile on when he turned around and nodded coolly, all practiced acts automatically assuming place as looked at the old man standing before him with beguiling eyes that seemed to sparkle.

"_His seemingly innocent smile is so arresting, no one who'd doubted other wise." _The old man who spoke was thinking, careful not to give himself away as he regarded the young man with a level gaze.

"The smell from this cooking was so good, it had my mouth watering." Soujiro said good-naturedly. And it was the truth. For a moment he felt the need to lie.

"Really?" the old man said almost flatteringly in response, massaging his white mustache, "Then you must thank Misao. It took her nine tries to finally get the flavor right." The old man laughed.

"Misao?" Soujiro inquired, his face questioning, "Is she that woman who saved my life back at the falls? …Then I must thank her." He said gratefully, "If she had not seen me maybe I would be dead by now." His voice was pure, incapable of deception.

The old man further laughed, "Oh no, no… I should thank you. You made her more of the woman she is right now, and it's all because you had to be taken care of."

Soujiro replied a look that was so confused the old man laughed more.

"Oh never you mind." He said, dismissing him. "It's nothing you should be so concerned about."

The silence that followed reverberated with an underlying awkwardness, but Soujiro was cool as the breeze, his hand still guarded on his katana that his long yukata sleeve concealed.

The old man, if he had noticed, didn't say anything. Instead, he broke the silence with a peremptory gaze to the window as he spoke.

"…You can walk as well as talk, I see. That's good enough." The old man said, "Go ahead and give yourself a bowl of warm soup. I'll get you the utensils…"

The old man began walking towards the back door with his rear to him…

And in that moment, Soujiro saw his opportunity with the immediate instinct of a skilled assassin.

He made a quick move and removed the blade from its sheath so fast the blade did not even whisper its protest. In a split second that was the moment to decide the old man's fate, he raised his katana mid-way to make a swift slash to his neck when something heavy hit his head hard.

Soujiro dropped to the floor with a thud.

"Misao! Do you want to give him a concussion??" the old man reprimanded, looking past Soujiro's body, "Why did you hit him on the head with a log?! I had the vase prepared!"

Just behind Soujiro's unconscious body stood Misao, clutching a heavy-looking piece of wood.

"Geez grandpa, I saved your head and this is how you say things…" she scratched her head annoyingly before looking at him, "If I hesitated to look for your ornament you never told me where, I swear your head'll be rolling down that path in no time." She said, watching Soujiro lying unconscious on the floor with his katana by his side. In that position, he looked just like any other innocent boy... But the evidence of what he just attempted bore itself hard on the two of them.

"Man, this guy is a little wrong in the head! We just saved his life, but the moment he wakes up he wants to take ours… Good thing we planned that little 'catch me sneaking' thing!"

"What a loony way of repaying things. I guess you really can't trust outside appearances huh." She concluded, then taking the rope she prepared by the corner, went to Soujiro's unconscious body. She stared at him cautiously for a while, ensuring herself that he really was knocked out. After all, he did a convincing act back there that nearly fooled her.

When she was convinced, she straddled him and tied the ropes securely on his hands. After that, she went on to work on his legs when Okina spoke.

"Misao, you've got it a little wrong there." The old man's rheumy voice suddenly said. The tone of his voice and the content did much to stop her from her work. She stared at him as he continued seriously, "This young man… I sense there is more to him…"

Misao could hardly believe what she was hearing. "What are you crazy, Okina??" she blurted out incredulously, suddenly angry, "If you don't call that cold-blooded murder what I saw earlier, I swear you're out of your mind for thinking he actually has something good in him." She finished binding him with ropes and tried to look satisfied at her work despite her old man's contradiction to her belief.

It couldn't be helped that she felt a little shaken after what happened. It was not everyday she sensed a very tangible aura of a killer on the loose with an image so unlikely…and Okina here was starting to suggest otherwise after what happened. The thought made her frown even more as she turned to look at this old man who was her greatest teacher and only known family ever since the dawn of her time.

It was no doubt disappointing to her that it must come from his lips.

"Good? Well, perhaps…" the old man Okina replied nonchalantly, unfazed by her outburst. "You know how these old bones can sense things better than your young ones." He even scolded her mildly.

"---Yeah right." she scoffed, "More like sensing ladies wandering around here I suppose." She added with a mutter.

"There is something about him…" he pondered on, almost to himself. "There's a desperation, a yearning to hide his true self..." he trailed off as though unsure.

"Maybe we ought to learn more. But let's be wise this time." Okina was saying.

"…Alright," Misao finally consented grudgingly, "But don't spare him a second to wriggle out of those ropes or we might have just fed the python that would kill us."

--

They bound him by the post in the center of the windowless storage room and left him there.

Meanwhile, Misao had time to think her thoughts by herself as she sat on her own bedroom, bothered by the happenings of this day...

Before, when she had found him by the falls and taken him to their house to be cured, she was thinking he was just an ordinary young man who got caught in some unpleasant business, ending him up with that wound that nearly sapped his life dry.

She told this circumstance to Okina, who somehow told her that they were to 'watch over him just in case'. The plan they assembled troubled her in some way; it appeared more like it was turning him into some disguising bloodlust killer who didn't have a heart. Finally, she went along thinking it was just his way of pulling off a standard precaution.

And now, how true it was... She nearly doubted something that saved her life and Okina's.

But after witnessing what just happened, she had probably seen more to him than her old man had…

"_You should've seen him walk senpai. He was like treading on cat's paws, not even the old wooden boards on the floor creaked when he glided by, looking casually in all directions before moving just as gently but meticulously... _

_Not a sound. And you do know how squeaky those boards are! I can't even tiptoe my way outside without being heard...! And he did get his katana like we'd thought he'd do. But the way he acts around… As if he could sense you. Good thing I knew otherwise. That guy really knows how to act things up! I wouldn't like to think how it'd be if he caught me sneaking up on him though…_

_I probably wouldn't even be thinking these thoughts right now._

These she thought she could say to the old man, but decided against it. Old man Okina was pretty much the kind whom you can't easily contradict, and Misao doubt what she will say will change his perception…or hers.

Seeing that young man act earlier made her draw all the iron curtain around herself and put up all the barriers of caution. And now, not even her senpai could convince her into thinking otherwise.

After all, seeing is believing.

--

The haggard place easily drew its own ambience of death and murder combined.

Silence undermined the whole fenced area like an element, filling it with the malevolence that turned innocent bystanders away from sight, and the fog that constantly shrouded the place created a halo of death and quiet secrecy…

The very notoriety it created reeked from its walls and exuded it around as if it were a living thing.

There were only three structures inside the forbidding low walls that surrounded it, the middle being the biggest of them, but all of them were adjoined to each other.

The people living distances away only know of that area enshrouded by a constant blanket of mist as a dangerous one, the type to be left alone and don't deserve any more attention paid to it. But the few who had the privilege to know can only say it once…it was the headquarters of men who engaged in ruthless killing and manslaughter for a price… the place where men of Crimson Goblet gather.

The Crimson Goblet and its scattered posts all obey to one standing insignia: it seeks to make itself known through its own prestige in killing…for a price. The second one in priority to their guild was never to associate with any society but their own, but the rule did not need much imposing; the members were naturally inclined to associating only with the ones who shared their killing and bloodlust interest that no one so far had broke the rule, whose offender merited a slow, painful death as consequence, or else unimaginable body torture till their life ends. But that all depends upon the severity of the offense done.

The Crimson Goblet assassins were far from well skilled and were known to each possess their own unique way of ending their target's life, but always with the name of a blade to carry on with it. Even black magic, coupled with a sword provided, had its own rending way of dealing with death.

Many clients, commonly the wealthy endowed and influential, seek their services in eliminating their enemies and personal grudges, but they knew well enough not to cross their path.

Even wild beasts that were fed still bite, and they were no exception. Once, one client had the nerve to provoke them into becoming his own personal crony, and soon his lacerated body was found the next day by the forest grounds. The incident was well kept on the people's minds.

Thus it was, their reputation grew to gruesome ends, and their name invoked fear and loathing to anyone who knew.

Lately however, their reputation for being gruesome skyrocketed due to the combined works of their members…and two young men: Soujiro Seta and a lone hand known only as Battousai. The latter was one of their leading yet also most uninvolved assassin, who somehow took a sudden interest in killing when Soujiro joined.

This the boss took with immense notice. This Seta kid was intriguing… not to mention, the circumstances that brought him here.

He still remembered how he had found the young boy on his way to escape ten years ago…

Soujiro was standing amidst the dead bodies of his relatives, smiling as he clutched a bloody katana. After much questioning and examining, the boss finally dragged him away to their headquarters, and after one month he was qualified and even volunteered to join the dispatch.

Soujiro made his progress slowly but with grave ruthlessness that soon he found his way making it to the top, with only Battousai ahead of him.

The boss took all this with knowing. Someday, may be he'll discover the reason for the boy's smile. But right now, he has to attend to some serious matter.

"Matsurugi, there is still no news of his whereabouts." The informant told him, "Shall we finish him off the next time he is seen?" he grinned with evil intent. Member or not, the guild rules appealed to all of them. And besides, Seta's rank could give him the raise he needed.

Matsurugi kept to himself at what the informant was suggesting, knowing it to be inevitably true but can't do anything about it.

If a member was reported in missing after three days beyond the date of his mission, members will search for him and kill him on sight, if he was lucky enough to live that long.

Soujiro has been missing for a month.

But the boss kept his exception for the boy and even made to search for him. This time however, he was still not found. The members of the guild were starting to grow restless, and he knew he had to do something about it soon. Or else, the consequences could get dire.

Matsurugi made his decision. It was a waste to get rid of someone as skilled and talented as Soujiro but he was left with no choice.

"I assign Battousai alone." He sighed heavily upon his weighted decision, "Order him to kill Smiling Death upon sight. Bring his remains."

--

It was a dreary day when Misao woke up the next morning. She tried to go back to sleep again, too weary from yesterday's confrontation, when discreet voices stopped her.

"Are you certain of this?" Okina's serious voice came through clearly from beyond the thin walls of her bedroom. It was coming from outside.

Her heart suddenly skipped a beat; Okina rarely invited a guest to their house, but now he had and the tone of his voice made her nervous. She sat in bed, unable to decide what to do.

The voice of the person he was talking to was inaudible. Misao decided to lean closer to the wall to get a good leverage.

"…by nightfall." she heard the other end finish.

"What?!" Okina's voice was astonished, but realizing he was too loud, spoke more quietly. But his tone could not hide its urgency.

"Misao… Then… I must do everything to keep her safe."

"Do what you must Okina. But harboring a member of Crimson Goblet will always put your lives on the line." The other's voice was made tight by the gravity of the situation and did not hold back. "If you still have hopes to live another day then head to the town of Kyuushu. Someone may be able to help you there."

Okina did not reply. But judging from his silence, Misao knew he was thinking it over, as if he was having second thoughts.

"_The old man! What is there to even think about??" _Misao was thinking, annoyed at the fact that Okina still clings to the belief that the killer in the storage room has a trace of kindness in him. If that guy was really a member of that dreaded guild, which was not much a surprise if it was, then why was he even considering taking care of him?

"They will kill him." Okina's voice came back, his tone made resigned because of the fate awaiting the young man.

"That is inevitable." came the mechanical reply.

"Then… maybe even in the end…"

Listening to the old man's persistent loyalty to the killer only made Misao's blood boil. This time, she stormed out of her bedroom and faced them outside.

"_No!_ We will not let him stay here for long!" Misao let out to their shocked faces.

The man Okina was talking to looked embarrassed at being overheard, mumbled something to Okina and in a sweep of motion disappeared from sight.

The old man was left alone to face Misao's wrath.

Even her eyes were seething with indignation.

"Misao…" he started.

"You won't let him stay!" she said to him, her voice was a command.

The old man only sighed, as if his student was not perceptible enough to see his point. This only made her furious though.

"Okina, have you finally lost your mind??" she said, almost exasperated, "If you saw what he was going to do to you, maybe you'd understand. That guy tried to take off your head! He was very good in acting everything up, and now you wish to endanger our lives _for him_??…"

"Misao." Okina's tired voice stopped her. "Enough." The tone of his voice said that he did not want to argue anymore.

Misao realized this with growing annoyance, and all she could do was hold back the tears of frustration starting to well up in her eyes as she turned and rushed away to the comfort of her bedroom, alone to brood by herself.

Okina just doesn't understand… She saw things in that guy that were too dangerous. It was as if he himself exuded an essence of death behind that mask of innocent joy--- and something else she refused to know. Misao remembered someone who gave her that feeling, and that person changed her life so tremendously she could only recall how he looked like.

Now seeing this happen again, she hated the fact that Okina refused to adhere to what she knew was true.

But what made it worst was he's trying to defend this man's life, which she believed deserved no more than isolation or death.

Soujiro's first appearance had thoroughly beguiled her into thinking he was just an ordinary traveler, incapable of any harm. She was thoroughly caught up in his deception that when Okina suggested that he be watched and followed, she thought it was just a standard precaution and decided to play along.

Now it was her turn to be beguiled, and the hurt made her completely mistrust this man… this man whom his senpai seem to value more than their life.

"Senpai…" Misao somewhat whispered to herself in a kind of prayer, "I hope you're making the right choice."


End file.
